Sandalwood
by CapturetheFinnick
Summary: Magnus wonders when Alec became such a secure part of his life, when 'me and Alec' became 'us'. The musings of Magnus discussing how much he loves Alec basically. Malec. Fluff.


The sun stretched through the curtains, catching wisps of Alec's hair as it curled into the pillow, briefly stroking across Magnus' nose. Their bare legs weaved together as Magnus remembered the night before; the gradual dimming of the fireplace, the flickering embers, the coal spitting and hissing as if it had a voice, a mind, and Magnus could never understand why people would choose electric fire places over the real ones, and the air hung with a smoke that lingered in the darkness, that weaved with the dimming light of the sky, the clouds darkening as they hung above the New York skyline. He remembered Alec's head in his lap, his own fingers curling around his hair as his eyelids softly sowed themselves shut. His chest calming lapping like waves hitting against the sand, his body floating above the sofa, and not in a literal way, he'd done that, but this was better, this was the wisps of his soul, of his heart, of whatever lurked inside him, fluttering above him, in time to Alec's gentle breathing.

He remembered the smudged piece of dirt that had hung under Alec's eyelid, and a small shake of the head as he had swung the weapons from over his head and onto the floor, his shirt lifting ever so slightly to reveal his muscled stomach, still glistening from the practice. And he remembered the smile that had come to his lips.

He couldn't remember when it had become a regular thing. Or when it had hit him that it was.

When the bed had starting being _ours._ When the sandalwood shower gel that hung in the bathroom had started to belong to both of them, the softness of the towels shared by them both. Alec's things were everywhere. His weapons in the pile where he had dropped them, pushing himself onto Magnus with a ferocity that told Magnus that it had been a good day. Chairman meow circling around his ankles. There was an entire draw filled with Alec's clothes. All black. A whole shelf on the book shelf. His food in the fridge.

He looked down at Alec's sleeping face, his eyes drifting to his shoulders which were draped with fabric. His silk night shirt from Peru. His fingers brushed softly against it. He felt as if his heart were stretching from his chest, weaving with Alec's like a knot that would bind them and he couldn't remember the last time he felt so at peace, happiness settling in his stomach like a dull ache.

He pressed a soft kiss against the back of Alec's head.

He had met so many species in his time, the sharp beauty of a faeries ear, the gentle lulling of a vampire's voice, the rugged nature of the werewolf. He had kissed them all, he had even sold his heart to a few, but never had he felt the gentle halo of lulling in the shimmering morning light. Who would have guessed that it would be the shadow hunter, the arrogant shadow hunter with their books and their rules, who would be lying in a bed that no longer belonged to either of them but a collective notion of _us,_ who would have thought that a shadow hunter could hold such exquisite beauty, could hold such a lull in Magnus' heart.

It was the collective notion. The collective notion of _us,_ that weaved itself through the apartment, like a ghost that hung around, the made Alec's skin glow, that clung to the windows like dew in the summer time, that couldn't even be cut by the sharp laughter of friends, the crinkling of Alec's eyes.

And Magnus had never understood family. He had never really had any. But he was beginning to understand, he could see it in the ties that held the group together, in the way his arm snaked around Alec's back and the glowing, rolling eyes of Isabelle as they pressed their lips together.

The sun filtered through the curtains, the air fresh with promises of flowers and flowing rivers, but he didn't want to move, he didn't know if he ever could again.

He was trapped in the world of sandalwood and grime that could only be washed off with the rush of water and soap upon skin to the background of belting joint duets. He was trapped to the world of the lingering firewood smoke as Alec draped himself over him. He was trapped in the world of lazy morning kisses in the haze of the world.

He was trapped. But he didn't mind one bit.

* * *

 _ **Okay so I haven't written mortal instruments fanfic in god knows how long - I haven't even read them since the last book came out last year - but I became overwhelmed with malec feelings which catipulted me back to my early teen days (and back into certain sections of the books for two hours instead of revising fml) so this is what happened. I am officially shipper trash. Thanks for reading and feel free to review laughs.**_


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